


A Misunderstanding

by twistedluminarystudent



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, FUCK, Gen, Hints of child neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loneliness, Nonbinary Frisk (Undertale), Psychological Trauma, Sad, Trauma, frisk is just a child, im a child too and id freak out if this shit happened to me so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 01:09:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17633213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedluminarystudent/pseuds/twistedluminarystudent
Summary: In which nobody came.





	A Misunderstanding

**Author's Note:**

> i barely have time for fanfiction anymore but ive already wasted the whole day away anyway so whipped this up real quick.

Frisk doesn't understand a lot of things.

Their body sags with tiredness, their legs shake pathetically and they feel weak. Weaker than they have ever felt in their entire life. They feel hollow, empty, and yet burning with so much emotion their head hurts.

They look at Toriel, the lack of emotion in her usually warm eyes, the battle stance, the cold apathy she radiates, whispering meaningless phrases in single effortless breaths.

"It's for your own good..."

"...they leave, they die."

"...all of them."

"...give up."

"...please!"

It's wrong. So wrong. Frisk feels impure, like they've just seen something they absolutely cannot process because Toriel- their first ever maternal figure in their otherwise miserable life- couldn't possibly be willing to kill. To erase. To eradicate. Them.

Frisk doesn't understand.

They want to throw up. Their body repulses the mere idea. They want to hurl, to purge, to remove the processed sight from their brain and set it in flames, burn every remnant of its existence until there's nothing left and they can just pretend it never happened because it didn't? See?

Mostly, they don't understand.

A wall of dancing orange answers their call for help. There's white-hot pain in the core of their being. It's not Toriel. It can't be. Toriel would never- she seemed so nice. So unlike their real family. So warm and genuine and caring. Like a mother should be. Like Toriel wa- is. Toriel is.

See? She's smiling at them. Noone ever smiled at them before.

Another burst of agonizing pain and Frisk's mouth opens, their vocal chords manipulating the molecules surrounding them as their scream echoes through the bare tunnel.

She's smiling. The smile is nothing like Frisk has ever seen before. Her eyes water oddly and her face stresses painfully and she just looks- tired.

They don't understand.

Then, it's too late anyway because someone- Frisk isn't sure who- struck them again and its hot. So hot that they can feel their skin melting off the bone of their physical vessel. Isn't it only their soul that is supposed to be affected?

They don't understand anymore.

They fall.

Their SOUL screams for mercy. Their very existence pleads desperately for respite. Toriel cries. Frisk sobs. They can't see anymore. It hurts. _It hurts!_

And then they're dead.

They're dead.

Yes, they are certain of this.

The very culmination of their being has been destroyed by someone who they had come to care greatly for.

They're dead.

Death is oddly anti climatic. One moment, they're experiencing the most pain and conflict they've ever felt in their entire life and then, all those feelings are washed away and they aren't even given the privilege of relief because they can't. They literally can't because they've ceased to exist.

They don't matter anymore.

The fragments of their SOUL are discarded with the others who are dead and it's fine but it's not fine because why are they still self-aware? It doesn't matter though. They're SOUL no longer exists so it doesn't.

But why? Why are they aware of experiencing this?

Their SOUL is shattered, isn't it?

_Isn't it?_

Isn't. it.

...

It.

Isn't?

 

There's an odd thrumming in their non-existent chest as the pieces re-combine into one and the world grabs them and haphazardly tosses them into their vessel several hours privy to their death. Their previous SOUL is replaced- combined?- with the new one and they matter again.

They matter again.

They wake up on a bed of golden flowers.

The accumulation of pollen tickles their nose, and they matter again.

The snippets of events that have yet to come are burrowed deep in their mind, and it takes a moment for them to reach out and grab them- the experiences their body has not yet endured but they themselves have.

Their metaphorical fingers slip through the memories. Intangible even when imagined. Nonexistent. Disbelieving.

Their body refuses to grasp hold of something that never technically happened.

And yet, they believe it. It happened. A grave agreement that all of their parts are in consensus of. They're traveling through a strange place called the 'underground' filled with monsters and magic after falling several feet down a mountain and miraculously managing to survive. Stuff happens, they guess.

The bed of gold they lie on is soft beneath their body.

Coming into proper consciousness is mildly overwhelming.

Their eyes are open and they feel disoriented, detached from reality because they are not sure what it is anymore. They are not sure what people are anymore. Humans. Monsters. Facades.

Frisk. Their given name. Their title. What they are identified by.

Frisk doesn't understand.

The darkness is thick and surrounds them, seeming to engulf their entire being. They feel oddly hollow despite their insides still being intact.

They are alone, they understand that.

The walls of the cavern echo back the loud, pathetic wails of a child who calls for help.

 

But nobody came.


End file.
